Herbert Ponting’s pioneering documentary about Antarctica is definitely the newest addition to my list of favorite films, and for good reason. The Great White Silence tells the story of Captain Robert Falcon Scott’s ill-fated voyage to Antarctica, where the Captain and four crewmates would die of exposure. Herbert Ponting documented much of the journey to Antarctica, up to the point of Captain Scott and his crew leaving to reach the South Pole in order to beat the Norwegian team attempting to do the same. The events that take place on the voyage to the South Pole are told through still photographs and title cards, as Herbert Ponting was left with the rest of the crew at base camp. The film tells the tragic story of Captain Robert Falcon Scott and his crew with the utmost respect, even without any real visual support – the final act of the film features some of the most heartbreaking storytelling I’ve ever seen in a documentary. The Great White Silence became one of the first documentaries to capture penguins, seals, and killer whales on camera in their natural habitats, and the first to shoot the unlivable continent of celluloid. Ponting also employs the use of comedy and wit in his title cards, telling the story of the journey in a playful, fun way in order to hook audiences immediately. The tonal shift in the final act of the film is fitting and classy, rather than jarring or unfitting – it works perfectly in telling the story of the Terra Nova expedition. The Great White Silence’s breakneck pacing and playful attitude makes it truly stand out among other classic documentaries, making it stand out among its peers. It’s a truly special film in its epic scope and Ponting’s eye for storytelling, and one of the most unique documentary films ever made. To read my full thoughts about The Great White Silence, check out my Doctober review of the film here.

The Fog of War: Eleven Lessons from the Life of Robert S. McNamara (2003)Directed by: Errol MorrisWritten by: Errol MorrisStarring: Robert S. McNamara

The greatest documentary subjects often tend to be the most divisive and controversial ones. Usually without agenda or bias, they instead challenge viewers to think outside the box and reconsider their own personal positions and points of view. Errol Morris’ Oscar-winning documentary The Fog of War pushes this idea even further. Consisting of a 105-minute interview with Robert S. McNamara, former Secretary of Defense of Presidents John F. Kennedy and Lyndon B. Johnson, The Fog of War is more stylish, revealing, and honest than most docs could ever hope to be. McNamara brings with him a list of eleven critical lessons he learned during his time serving the United States of America, and makes an excellent case for his and his colleague’s often controversial actions. In many cases, his eleven lessons can be considered for universal use, and not just for those in high-ranking positions of power.

McNamara comes across as a genuine and truly down to earth man with nothing more to lose. His political career is behind him, and it’s clear that he has reflected on the actions of his government and his country that came in a time of great confusion and turmoil. He is transparent and never afraid to admit when somebody was in the wrong, using a vast knowledge of history and terrific anecdotal evidence to backup his claims. McNamara frequently tells the camera that it was sheer blind luck that got the United States and Russia through the Cold War without starting a nuclear war. The former Secretary of Defense gives chilling recollections of the Cuban missile crisis, the assassination of JFK and the subsequent inauguration of Lyndon Johnson, and America’s entry in Vietnam and the immediate mess that situation would become. Stories like these leave a long-lasting impression with viewers because of how genuinely terrifying they are, and really puts the role of government into perspective. Nothing is black and white for those in charge; at the end of the day, regardless of education, wealth, or status, we’re all just feeling our way through the dark.

The film’s fascinating subject aside, director Errol Morris is a major reason why The Fog of War works nearly as well as it does. He shows tremendous restraint by allowing McNamara to speak his mind, especially since he often doesn’t seem to have any sort of script or agenda. He lets his subject stumble, pause, and go back in his own timeline to clarify facts and anecdotes, and adds a great deal of humanization to somebody who is considered to be very divisive and controversial. Morris’ veteran eye for details and penchant for storytelling shine just as bright as they did in his earlier masterpiece The Thin Blue Line. It’s clear that he’s matured as a filmmaker and a storyteller in the years since that film, but his trademarks are still there. He manages to turn an interview with this controversial figure into a very intimate and revealing experience – something Morris seems to have a knack for. The Fog of War tackles incredibly complex topics like human nature, conflict resolution, acting under pressure and scrutiny, and most importantly our taste for war and appetite for destruction. He adds to McNamara’s storytelling by using archival footage and stylized graphics and inserts, making The Fog of War constantly interesting from both visual and narrative standpoints. Backing up Errol Morris’ expert direction is a typically haunting (and sometimes playful) score by frequent collaborator Philip Glass. The film’s soundtrack adds weight to McNamara’s anecdotes and Morris’ direction, turning the film into a truly unforgettable experience. Today, The Fog of War is considered to be one of Errol Morris’ greatest accomplishments, and perhaps one of the most important documentaries of the 2000’s. It won the Academy Award for Best Documentary in 2004, as well as an Independent Spirit Award. Robert McNamara passed away in 2009 at the age of 93, leaving an incredible legacy behind him – he is still to this day the longest acting Secretary of Defense in US history.What I Liked:

Robert McNamara is an incredibly fascinating and well-spoken subject. His points are all delivered clearly and concisely, and his anecdotes are riveting.

The “11 lessons” structure really adds to the pacing of the film, but doesn’t detract from McNamara’s interview at all.

Errol Morris’ interview style is up-close and personal and very intimate. By the end of the film, you really feel like you understand McNamara.

Philip Glass’ score is incredible – haunting, tense, and just a tiny bit playful. Would work perfectly in a spy film.

The use of archival footage never distracts from the interview, but adds tremendous weight to the picture – especially when dealing with the subjects of nuclear war or Vietnam.

Morris often chimes in from behind the camera, sometimes asking questions or calling for clarification, and it always helps to alleviate things a little.

Every single one of Robert McNamara’s eleven lessons are relevant and important to leaders around the world. They deal with empathy, rationality, efficiency, data, good and evil, and human nature, and every single one resonates after the credits roll.

Errol Morris’ The Fog of War could have easily been another dull, lifeless, lost in the crowd interview documentary – but the end result is so much more than that. Morris created a masterpiece using simple direction, incredible archival footage, a brilliant score, and one hell of a subject. It’s intimate, important, startling, informative, and powerful. Robert McNamara is one of the most interesting documentary subjects in the history of the medium, and the importance of his messages cannot be understated. You don’t have to be a history buff to take something away from The Fog of War, you only need to be human. Errol Morris’ The Fog of War: Eleven Lessons from the Life of Robert S. McNamara gets my highest recommendation.

The history of the documentary stretches back as far as the dawn of film as a medium, giving audiences a look at everyday events, wars, medical breakthroughs, foreign cities and ways of life, and in the case of The Great White Silence, expeditions. Herbert Ponting’s 1924 documentary chronicles the infamous Terra Nova Expedition of Antarctica, which took place between 1910-1913, and led by Captain Robert Falcon Scott. Ponting is thought to be the first man to shoot motion photography on the frozen continent, making him a pioneer of both the film and journalism industries. Along with key moments of the expedition, Ponting became one of the first men in history to shoot footage of seals, killer whales, and penguins in their natural habitats. Without men like Herbert Ponting, we probably wouldn’t have somebody like Sir David Attenborough and documentaries as epic in scope as Planet Earth.

The goal of the Terra Nova Expedition was simple: Captain Scott and his English crew were to plant a Union Jack flag on the South Pole, sailing to Antarctica from New Zealand. Scott and his crew were to race a team of Norwegian’s to the destination, with the goal of both groups being the planting of their respective flag. Along the way, Ponting documents the animals brought aboard the ship for the expedition (more than a dozen ponies, dogs, and a cat with a heck of a name), the massive glaciers and ice shelves along the way, and we get to know our crew by watching them celebrate, receive haircuts, and just generally take in the breathtaking scenery at the end of the earth. Ponting gives the audience a sneak peak of the antiquated technologies used to travel, including primitive snowmobiles, and dog and pony-led sledges. He carefully and comically chronicles his time spent with a large group of penguins, detailing their mating rituals, nesting habits, and other characteristics of the arctic birds. Eventually Robert Scott and his four-man expedition team leave base camp for their ill-fated trip to the South Pole, leaving behind Ponting and smaller support teams to plant supplies for the journey back, and to document Antarctic life. Captain Scott and his four crew mates would never be seen alive again, and Herbert Ponting and the support crew would travel back to England, with the film eventually being pieced together and released to the public.

The tragic story of the Terra Nova Expedition is one of the most famous stories of exploration in modern history, and watching it happen through the lens of Herbert Ponting in The Great White Silence is nothing short of extraordinary. Ponting’s camera captures sights and wonders that had never been seen by the common man at the time, and his attention to detail and appreciation for Antarctica’s desolate beauty is what makes The Great White Silence stand apart from almost any other documentary I’ve ever seen. He gives equal weight to wildlife and to the continents many massive natural ice formations and glaciers, giving insightful and often very humorous commentary through the use of title cards between these scenes. Ponting’s playful storytelling style works perfectly for the first two acts of the film, and then he switches to a much more serious and fact-driven tone when chronicling the tragic adventure of Robert Scott and company. Even though he wasn’t actually with the five men at the time of their demise, he perfectly tells their story. We find out how long it took the men to reach the South Pole, what exactly went wrong, when certain crew members were lost to the elements, and what led to the demise of the entire party. Ponting goes from playfully sly to dreadfully serious in his tribute to the five brave explorers, and it couldn’t have possibly been done better in my mind. The Great White Silence truly is one of the greatest pieces of movie history that I’ve ever had the pleasure of watching, almost entirely due to the creative choices of its director. Ponting has an eye for scenery, and a knack for storytelling, and he uses them to craft what I consider to be one of the most perfect documentary films ever created.What I Liked:

The pacing is consistent and break-neck, even in the film’s more playful first acts.

Ponting spends just the right amount of time with his subjects (seals, penguins, killer whales, the crew), never stopping on any one subject for too long. His camera respects all forms of life equally, and sees the value in all of their stories.

The framing of several shots was astounding, particularly when the Terra Nova first comes into contact with mountainous glacial ice shelves. Another highlight is a naturally formed ice cave on the frozen continent.

Ponting’s inter-titles are hilarious, especially in his dealings with the crew and the colony of penguins. His storytelling is unique and at times intentionally misleading for comedic effect. My favorite example of this is “Soon after we had started on our way, an epidemic broke out aboard…of HAIRCUTTING!”

The director clearly had a great deal of respect for Captain Robert Falcon Scott, as his story is told with the utmost sincerity and gravity. Herbert Ponting quotes from Scott’s journal, giving us a first-hand recollection of the events and letting us picture it for ourselves, since no real footage of the events exists.

The BFI’s 2011 restoration of The Great White Silence features a haunting score by Simon Fisher Turner. It suits the film perfectly, and compliments the visual storytelling. They have also touched up the surviving sources, creating an incredible presentation for a film nearly 100 years old – and featuring footage from 1910-1913.

What I Didn’t:

Having been released in 1924, The Great White Silence is dated in its social conventions and in its science. If you can’t handle the fact that Ponting’s views don’t match those of contemporary society’s, this film probably isn’t for you. The primary example being the aforementioned cat with the peculiar name – the poor black cat’s name was literally the “N” word. Despite this, the film has age remarkably well in other respects.

Herbert Ponting’s visual diary of the Terra Nova Expedition is truly something that must be seen to be believed. It’s breathtaking in its beauty, incredibly funny and playful in some of its storytelling, and ultimately tragic and heartbreaking in the end. The Great White Silence stands as one of the greatest achievements in documentary history, and has instantly become one of my all-time favorite films. The fact that it exists to this day is a blessing to moviegoers around the world. I urge you to see this film at some point during your lifetime, there’s almost no chance you won’t be blown away. The Great White Silence is a masterpiece, and gets my highest recommendation.

Documentaries certainly don’t get much stranger than Terry Zwigoff’s Crumb, which follows the day-to-day life of American artist Robert Crumb, his wife Aline, and his brothers Charles and Maxon. This isn’t so much an autobiography of Crumb’s life, but more a fly on the wall perspective of the man and his eccentricities…and boy is he eccentric. Robert Crumb burst onto the underground art scene in the 1960’s with counter culture and contemporary folk comic books like Fritz the Cat, Mr. Natural, and Keep on Truckin’. Charles and his brothers were raised in an average American family; their father an author and mother an amphetamine-addicted housewife, both parents trapped in an unhappy marriage. It’s hard to believe that the eccentric and bizarre Robert is considered to be the “normal” brother, with both Charles and Max suffering from severe mental illness.

It would have been easy for Zwigoff to paint this family as a group of weirdos, but instead he opts to simply observe. What follows is an incredible portrait of the creative spirit in all its uniqueness. We get to find out first hand the shortcomings of contemporary American life that drive Robert’s satirical and at times disturbing works, with the artist telling us firsthand what his works mean and why they’ve been created. This is what makes Zwigoff’s Crumb stand out from the thousands of other artist portrait documentaries made; he lets the artist speak for himself instead of the director taking the reigns and crafting the narrative. He doesn’t paint Crumb as a tortured, sympathetic artist, nor a twisted, oddball. He just lets his subjects be themselves and doesn’t sway the narrative. Director David Lynch had a hand in producing the film, and I couldn’t possibly imagine a more perfect fit for his surreal, bizarre style.

There are many highlights to be found in Crumb, and oddly enough almost none of them have anything to do with the man’s artwork. Instead they’re found when examining the artist himself and his peculiar family. Robert’s odd relationship with his wife Aline is something I enjoyed watching, and would have loved to see more of. There’s both a coldness and a warmth towards each other that is very difficult to describe. Robert constantly references his past loves and sexual conquests, and none of it seems to bother Aline in the least. We even get moments with Robert’s ex, who almost compulsively lied to and cheated on her. There’s an incredible and very rare openness in Robert and Aline’s marriage that I just found to be fascinating. Other highlights of Crumb are found towards the end of the movie, where Charles and Max discuss their various mental illnesses and how it influenced them sexually. Charles described himself as having pedophaelic homosexual tendencies, and Max recounts a story of “molesting” a woman in a store, publicly masturbating and pulling down her shorts. This entire portion of the film is tragic, surreal, and at times even pretty darkly funny. I’ve never seen anything quite this honest and self-aware, and I adored Terry Zwigoff’s transparency.What I Liked:

You won’t see a more unflinchingly honest and open documentary about public figures in your lifetime. This is a rare and invaluable film for that very reason.

Zwigoff’s camera is never afraid to capture long, drawn-out conversations about seemingly nothing, and yet somehow they’re all captivating, hilarious, or bizarre.

Having Robert Crumb’s mother finally open up in front of the camera is an incredible moment, especially after almost exclusively hearing her yelling in the background and nothing more.

At two hours long, Crumb absolutely flies by because of its unfocused style and the incredibly unique characters it follows.

There’s no dull archival recount of Crumb’s career, nor are his works endlessly praised by talking heads. This is a movie about the man himself, not his work or his influence.

Every instance of Robert, Charles, and Max’s history of bizarre sexual escapades, interests, and at times their deviancy all rings so true. It’s honest in the most human way possible, and made me both laugh and cringe more than I thought possible. These stories are part of what makes Crumb so unique and such an interesting work.

What I Didn’t:

The non-linear style of the film at times makes it feel unfocused and maybe slightly long in the tooth. It’s never boring or uninteresting, but at times you’re left wondering what the point is.

While I can’t hold this against the film, I wish there was more than a passing mention of Charles Crumb’s eventual suicide at the end of the film.

Crumb is a film that I’ve wanted to catch up with for more than five years now, and I’m so glad that I finally have. Terry Zwigoff’s fly on the wall portrait of Robert Crumb and his family is unlike any documentary I’ve ever seen (with the exception of something like Grey Gardens), and probably would not be made in our current “politically correct” atmosphere. It’s something I never knew I wanted, and it pains me that it stands on its own stylistically and thematically. Crumb is an absolute treat from start to finish, but it’s probably not for the faint of heart, nor is it for anybody who is very easily offended. Crumb is very highly recommended.

It’s a rare thing for a film to be widely recognized as a game changer soon after its release, especially in a genre as wide and deep as the documentary film. Errol Morris’ The Thin Blue Line did just that by carefully chronicling the case of the killing of a Texas police officer. Morris presents testimony and evidence that would eventually directly lead to a man who was falsely accused and sentenced to death, to be exonerated from death row. It’s one of the few times in movie history where the film itself has such far-reaching effects that didn’t only change cinematic history, but the history of a living, breathing human being. When considering the idea of a documentary pantheon, The Thin Blue Line deserves to be front and center for everything it accomplished and changed for the medium.

The Thin Blue Line begins immediately with Randall Adams’ story of how he got to Dallas, Texas, and was almost immediately offered to start a new job. After an uneventful first day, Adams picks up a ride from 16-year old David Harris, who had just stolen a car and his father’s firearms. David and Randall spent the day together, saw a movie, and were later allegedly involved in the shooting of a Dallas police officer upon being pulled over. What follows the shooting is one of the prime examples of the failings of the United States justice system, as an innocent man is sentenced to death only because the perpetrator of the crime was deemed too young for the death penalty. Despite all evidence pointing to Harris as the shooter, Randall Adams is blamed for the crime so the state of Texas can make an example out of him.

The experience of watching The Thin Blue Line is unlike any other I’ve had while watching a documentary. Morris’ direction is very cinematic, employing the use of stylistic reenactment of the crime, set to music composed by the legendary Philip Glass. The reenactments are tasteful and delicately directed in order to give a proper idea of what went on that night. On top of the reenactments are a wide variety of talking head-style interview clips with Randall Adams, David Harris, as well as the police officers and prosecutors who worked to put the two men away. Morris lets every interviewee tell their stories with an unblinking, attentive eye. Everybody in The Thin Blue Line has a story and a reason for doing what they did, and Morris sees the inherent value in these points of view, as they tell the story of how such a miscarriage of justice could ever take place.

What I Liked:

Despite being a documentary about a case where a man was wrongfully accused, Errol Morris’ camera does not look down or discriminate against those responsible. Instead he lets their actions and words speak for themselves.

Philip Glass’ score is phenomenal and really helps to drive the film.

The use of reenactments is brilliant, they’re shot in an atmospheric haze that really differs them from the talking head portions of the film.

Does a great job of mapping out a timeline from the day of the crime, all the way through the obtainment of a confession and the subsequent trial. Morris doesn’t hold your hand, but the film flows so perfectly that he would never need to.

Everybody is given equal respect and time to explain and justify their points of view, no matter how small their part in the case.

The pacing is incredible, jumping from interview to interview, switching occasionally to reenactments or archival footage and photographs, and back to interviews. I’ve watched the film three times in preparation for this review, and not once have I grown tired of it.

Errol Morris’ “less is more” style really works for the film. It’s not flashy at any points, but it gives the feeling of being a stylish documentary due to its narrow focus and use of reenactments.

What I Didn’t:

This isn’t the fault of the film, but after multiple viewings it’s very clear that The Thin Blue Line laid the groundwork for the modern “true crime” documentary. I can think of a dozen documentaries in the last decade that have borrowed heavily from its style, yet none of them have ever managed to surpass Morris’ breakthrough film.

The Thin Blue Line is a masterpiece in documentary filmmaking. It invented the formula for one of the most popular subgenres of documentary, the true crime/investigative film. It’s been so influential to documentary filmmaking that it almost feels cliched at times, but it practically invented the style. Errol Morris’ eye for detail, knack for storytelling in all forms, and respect for the subjects at hand all make this a home run. There’s a reason why you’ll find The Thin Blue Line at the top of nearly all “best of” lists: It’s just that damn good. Errol Morris’ The Thin Blue Line gets our highest recommendation.

The Oscar-winning documentary from just last year is the most recent film on my list, but undoubtedly one of the most important. Citizenfour is Laura Poitras’ revealing film about American whistleblower Edward Snowden, one of the most important social figures of the modern era. Snowden fled the country and subsequently leaked documents revealing the extent of the surveillance and wiretapping being practised by the USA’s National Security Agency (NSA). These documents are incredibly troubling to anybody even remotely concerned about personal privacy in the internet age, and are the result of a single tragic moment in history, the attacks on American on September 11th, 2001. Snowden secretly reached out to Laura Poitras, and journalists Glenn Greenwald and Ewen MacAskill, and met with the group in Hong Kong for the making of Citizenfour, one of the most frightening and groundbreaking documentaries of the decade. The film largely takes place in a hotel room, where the four discuss the documents, the leaking and reporting of said documents, and spend a great deal of time dealing with the inevitable paranoia that comes with meeting in such secretive and important fashion. Citizenfour is meditative, intense, and terrifying all at the same time, making it an incredibly compelling watch and a film deserving of its tremendous critical reception. This is an Academy Award winner that absolutely nobody can dispute the importance of, and one we’ll be analyzing and poring over for years to come.

9. Trouble the Water (2008)

Directed by: Carl Deal, Tia Lessin

Starring: Kimberly Rivers Roberts, Scott Roberts

In 2005, the effects of Hurricane Katrina were felt all around the United States, but nobody got it worse than those living in Louisiana, specifically the famous city of New Orleans. Trouble the Water is the incredible documentary that tells a story of survival, struggle, and raises major questions and concerns about the government’s handling of the Hurricane. Trouble the Water follows Kimberly Roberts and her husband Scott, both of whom walk the devastated streets of their former hurricane, now changed forever. Kimberly videotaped the day before the storm struck New Orleans, and the morning of the storm, capturing terrifying and thrilling footage of the events. Kimberly’s videos are played between other home videos, news reports, and interviews taken by Deal and Lessin, the directors of Trouble the Water. Kimberly and Scott try to find silver linings in the destruction of their great city, and struggle with starting fresh after such devastation. They voice their frustrations with the way the American government handled the failing of the levees, the setting up of shelters for those displaced throughout Louisiana, and delivering aid to their countrymen in their time of need. Trouble the Water raises incredibly thought-provoking arguements that American’s are still wrestling with over a decade later, and because of that is incredibly engaging, frustrating, and downright scary. The film was deservingly nominated for an Academy Award in 2009, but lost out to the incredibly influential and entertaining Man on Wire. This is a must-see film about one of the most tragic events of the last decade, and is an absolute eye-opener.

The second rockumentary on my list is a much different monster than Anvil! The Story of Anvil, but succeeds in being every single bit as entertaining. Stop Making Sense is the incredible concert film by Oscar-winner Jonathan Demme, focusing entirely on the Talking Heads, fronted by the highly-acclaimed and eccentric David Byrne. Talking Heads were one of the most influential alt-rock bands of the 1980’s, and continue to be incredibly popular even after being broken up for as long as I’ve been alive. Byrne and company give highly energetic and entertaining performances, featuring terrific sound design and direction by the legendary Jonathan Demme. Highlights of the concert include Byrne’s opening performance of “Psycho Killer”, featuring only himself and a boombox, the incredible performance of the band’s biggest hit “Burning Down the House”, and most notably Byrne’s iconic massive business suit, gradually growing comedically larger throughout the film. Stop Making Sense is a hell of a lot of fun, and is the single concert movie I find myself coming back to time and time again, not only because I adore the music, but because everything about it is just so lively, so lovingly-crafted, and so damned influential in its absurdity. Stop Making Sense is perfect in every way, and deserves a spot at the top of any concert documentary list. I highly recommend it, even if you’re not a fan of Talking Heads, it’s a terrific time that’ll leave you smiling for hours after it’s over.

7. Stories We Tell (2012)

Directed by: Sarah Polley

Starring: Sarah Polley, Michael Polley

Blurring the lines between reality and fiction, Canadian actress Sarah Polley’s documentary is easily the best film in her already impressive directorial catalog. Stories We Tell is an incredibly personal film about family, specifically her own family dynamic. It examines the subjectivity sometimes found in truth and the act of storytelling, being both highly-engaging, entertaining, and very emotional. Stories We Tell delves into Sarah Polley’s deepest family secrets, and does it in such a real, revolutionary way. Though it’s centered around a family that the audience knows nothing about, it feels deeply personal and familiar in a way I’ve never really felt while watching a documentary. Sarah Polley examines the relationship between her birth mother and her father, and reveals that she is the child of a different man, the result of an affair between her mother and a Montreal film and theatre producer. The film is peppered with faked archival footage of Polley and her family, shot convincingly on super 8 film and blurring the lines between real and fake perfectly. On top of the examination of the relationships in her own life, Stories We Tell analyses the act and art of storytelling, and how stories can be so revealing, and often twisted and shaped by memory. Stories We Tell is a masterpiece of modern documentary filmmaking, and one I think about very often. It’s a love letter to a family, a mystery, and an analysis of storytelling all wrapped into one complex, touching film. It may not be as easy to digest as some of the other films on my list, but I promise you won’t be disappointed by this one.

For All Mankind is a unique film on my list, as it’s entirely composed of archival footage, all edited and stitched together to make up one beautiful documentary. For All Mankind takes footage of NASA’s Apollo missions through the 1960’s and 1970’s, coupled with real mission recordings of the astronauts involved as well as narration by some of the men. All this footage from different missions is seamlessly edited together to seem like one single epic mission to the moon. For All Mankind focuses on the beauty of the distant planet Earth from the dark expanses of space, and features breathtaking visuals captured by incredibly brave pioneers of spaceflight. If you know anything about me, you know that I adore all things space, so it’s no wonder this film is so high up on my list. Throughout this wonderfully edited experimental film, viewers are treated to amazing views of small fires in the pitch-black Sahara desert, a quiet space-walk, a beautiful sunrise over the edge of the Earth, the first footsteps on the moon by Neil Armstrong, and the planting of the American flag on the moon’s desolate surface. On top of these incredible images, we get to see astronauts in the hostile environments they thrive in, and get to take a look at the innovative technology of the time. There’s not a single moment in For All Mankind that isn’t memorable or beautiful, especially in high-definition. This documentary is a brilliant time-capsule, and is a must-see for anybody with an interest in space, NASA, and the moon. For All Mankind is available on blu-ray through the Criterion Collection and comes highly recommended.

I’ve seen Alex Gibney be called the “Ron Howard of documentary filmmaking” on numerous occasions over the last few years, with the release of popular and acclaimed docs like The Armstrong Lie (2013), We Steal Secrets: The Story of Wikileaks (2013), and his latest Steve Jobs: The Man in the Machine (2015). This title refers to the prolific nature of both filmmakers, and the inevitability of occasional dips in quality and inconsistency. Both Gibney and Howard have masterpieces and hugely popular films, but both men have also rushed projects or been overly ambitious, resulting in occasionally light, fluffy, or sloppy films being made. With this said, Gibney is still easily one of the best, most unique voices in the game, and one of the best documentary filmmakers of the 21st century so far. His films have made a tremendous impact on the documentary world, and on the cultural zeitgeist of our time. No matter what the reaction to Gibney’s project are, I’m always excited to check out anything with his named attached to it.

Alex Gibney’s first major breakthrough in the world of documentary films came with his 2005 film, Enron: The Smartest Guys in the Room. The film made Gibney famous because of how concise it was, giving audiences an overview of Enron as a company, what went wrong, and who exactly was response for the downfall of a company many thought was too big to fail. Not only is the film concise in its delivery of information, but it manages to be incredibly entertaining (especially for the subject matter) and in the process pulls no punches. Gibney’s voice as a documentarian was born with Enron: The Smartest Guys in the Room, quickly making him a commodity in the world of film, and earning him his very first Academy Award nomination. Enron: The Smartest Guys in the Room gives a profile on Kenneth Lay, Jeffrey Skilling, Andrew Fastow, and the rest of those responsible for the goings-on within the Enron Corporation, a major American energy company through the 1990’s and early 2000’s. The film covers the stock market bluffs, the controversial ‘rank and yank’ firing system used by the company, the manic CEO’s and executives, misreporting of finances, and Enron’s role in the California energy crisis. No stone goes unturned, and nobody involved in the quick downfall of the company is safe from the film’s scrutiny.

In less than two hours, Enron: The Smartest Guys in the Room manages to deliver more shocking facts, interviews, and entertainment than most modern documentaries could ever hope to do. The film is edited very sharply, never pausing for too long on any particular subject, but never simply glossing over major moments or figures. Even those with no prior knowledge of the Enron Corporation or the energy industry of 1990’s America will easily be able to keep up with the film and get a lot out of it. The music, interviews, video clips, and photographs used throughout the film help move the narrative along, and give you an accurate picture of the times and what was going on at Enron at any given time. Audio recordings and first-hand accounts of what was going on in and outside of the corporation are riveting, shocking, and incredibly revealing. Alex Gibney’s Oscar-nominated film does everything it aims to do, and it does it in a very natural, painless way. When the film’s end credits roll, you will be left infuriated at what took place within the company, and what could have been had such rampant and epic corruption taken place. In short, Enron: The Smartest Guys in the Room will move you in ways that you’ll never expect, and have you coming back for more. This film is highly recommended to all, no matter how interested you may be in the subject matter.

Gonzo: The Life and Work of Dr. Hunter S. Thompson (2008)

Directed by: Alex Gibney

Starring: Hunter S. Thompson, Johnny Depp

Coming just one year after Alex Gibney won an Academy Award for Best Documentary Feature for 2007’s Taxi to the Dark Side, Gonzo: The Life and Work of Dr. Hunter S. Thompson became Gibney’s first major production to tackle just one single subject. Gonzo tells the story of rock star journalist and writer Hunter S. Thompson, specifically detailing the years between 1965-1975. It was during this time that Thompson became a cultural icon for his writings on the Hell’s Angels motorcycle club, the hippy movement and counterculture of the late-1960’s, his hatred for US President Richard Nixon, his backing of Democratic nominee George McGovern, the birth of “gonzo” journalism and the publishing of Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. Gibney’s film paints a detailed picture of the time period and features a tremendous amount of interviews by those close to the writer, who help give accounts and paint what kind of person Thompson was. We hear stories of his rampant alcoholism and battle with drug addiction, his thoughts on American politics and culture of the time, original music by Thompson himself, his infatuation with fame and fortune, and the events and mood leading to his suicide years later.

If you’re like me and know next-to-nothing about Hunter S. Thompson, Gonzo: The Life and Work of Dr. Hunter S. Thompson may not be the most effective place to start learning about the cult writer and cultural icon. Though the film is fun to watch unfold due to the chaotic nature of its editing and use of music and sound, the loving interviews, the terrific narration by Johnny Depp, and the amount of archival footage and recordings of Hunter S. Thompson himself, when it ended I felt nothing at all. This nothingness is the worst possible feeling after watching a clearly lovingly crafted and well-made documentary for two hours. I felt as if I learned nothing about who Hunter S. Thompson was as a person, what shaped him and influenced him as a writer, what fueled the fires that led to his passionate views, and what lead to his reliance on drugs and alcohol, how it affected his day-to-day life, and how it led to his eventual suicide. Instead, I was taken on a journey detailing Hunter’s drug-use, his support and hatred for politicians of the era, and the zany adventures that inspired his famous musings, articles, and books. Unfortunately, none of these topics were particularly interesting to me, as they had no real impact due to my not understanding Hunter S. Thompson as a person. I appreciated many aspects of Gibney’s Gonzo, but was left cold and terribly disappointed in the end. I wish I didn’t have to say it, but Gonzo: The Life and Work of Dr. Hunter S. Thompson is the biggest disappointed of Doctober 2015 thus far, and is a project that had an incredible amount of potential. For those interested in an introduction to the subject or Alex Gibney completionists, it’s mildly recommended, but made no real impact on me.

Taxi to the Dark Side (2007)

Directed by: Alex Gibney

Starring: Dilawar

Taxi to the Dark Side is Alex Gibney’s Academy Award-winning documentary, released in 2007 and playing an important role in the discussion of America’s use of torture methods to get information out of international terrorist suspects. The film made Alex Gibney a name to watch in the game, coming just two years after his highly successful Enron: The Smartest Guys in the Room. Those two films, coupled with the Academy Award win cemented Gibney’s status as one of the most important documentarian’s of the decade, and has resulted in him directed more than a dozen documentaries since their release. Taxi to the Dark Side tells the tragic story of Dilawar, an Afghan taxi driver, who was detained by the forces in Afghanistan, and ended up being found dead less than one week later. The death – and others like it – was later investigated and ended up producing truly shocking, disgusting information about the use of assault, sensory deprivation, and humiliation. Taxi to the Dark Side exposes the soldiers and officials who are to blame for the senseless killings of prisoners, and delves into the controversial methods employed by American special forces in the “War on Terror”. Officers and soldiers who were stationed in the Afghanistan and played a role in the killing of Dilawar and other prisoners are interviewed by Gibney, with many of them giving honest accounts and admitting to their roles.

There’s no wonder Alex Gibney won an Academy Award for Best Documentary so soon into his directing career, with films like this and Enron exposing the horrible things humans are capable of when there is lack of oversight or effective leadership in place. Taxi to the Dark Side genuinely shocked me with its accounts of torture, inefficiency in the foreign prison system, and the photos coupled with true reports and accounts of the incidents. Gibney and the officers tell horrifying stories of sleep and sensory deprivation through the use of music and noise (dogs barking, screaming, etc.), alternating heat and cold, and extreme sexual humiliation. Other accounts tell of officers destroying the legs of a prisoner by repeating kneeing and kicking, and how many officers saw humor in what they were doing. Not only does Gibney confront and expose those directly involved in the senseless killings, but also the government officials in the Bush administration who supported and saw the necessity of torture of suspected terrorists. Even though he may be inconsistent at the best of times, Alex Gibney knows how to put a documentary together concisely, giving the important information – but never spoon-feeding the audience. The film runs at a smooth pace, and never pulls any punches about its subject. The accounts are incredibly in-depth, and as a result are never easy to listen to or watch unfold. This is what makes Gibney’s Oscar-winner such an important piece of work, and what makes it a terrific and revealing film. Without filmmakers like Gibney who are willing to expose incidents and those responsible for these incidents, then the world would be oblivious to these needless tragedies. This is a documentary that you need to see, whether or not you agree with the idea of torture to obtain information. Taxi to the Dark Side comes highly recommended, and might be Gibney’s masterpiece.